Insignificant Events
by 0oxymoronic0
Summary: This was kissing the devil, with fire and brimstone and lust and his soul curling and coiling around Tom’s. This was incredible. It was Tom Riddle, and he was going to crash and burn someday but this was enough to cling on to on the ride down. TomHarry.
1. Drowning

**Drowning**

The green light that had illuminated his eyes was replaced by a soft, intense burning. He squinted through barely-opened eyes at Tom Riddle.

_No matter how many times I kill him I will never truly defeat him._

No… no no _no_! The light… had Voldemort killed him? Was this place Hell? Well, seeing as his enemy was here the basics were already covered. So… was this a memory? No… Riddle was shaking his arm, speaking to him. Had he been sent back in time? Ridiculous as it sounded, it was the only logical explanation. He realised he was being addressed and looked back at Riddle. "What's your name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter." He half-expected Riddle to kill him there, but he was far in his future, and his eyes were simply blank with acceptance.

"Can you stand?" Apparently he didn't feel it necessary to bestow his own name. Harry nodded and heaved himself up. Noticing the crest on his chest Riddle frowned. "You'd better be getting back to your Common Room."

"No!" Harry started to follow him. Riddle was his only tie to reality – his only known in this world. Apart from Dumbledore…

Riddle turned on him again. "Potter? They're purebloods, aren't they?" Harry nodded a tad frantically. "Blood traitors." Harry's face dropped. Riddle looked at him distastefully. "Well, I suppose it could be worse. You could be a Weasley." Harry's wand was at his throat. Riddle laughed and pushed it aside, turning smoothly and walking away. Harry wished he hadn't hurried after. "I haven't heard of _Harry_Potter." Riddle's eyes narrowed. "You're not some hushed-up Mudblood affair, are you?" Harry controlled his trembling, trying to block his mother's face from his mind when Snape had said that word to her. Hermione – the most intelligent, lovely, wonderful person in the world – reduced to tears just because Malfoy had spat that word.

"No. I'm not." Riddle's expression softened from one of extreme disgust to mild repulsion, bordering on – heaven forbid – tolerance.

"But your robes…" He gestured vaguely at them, his nose wrinkling at the symbol on his chest. "You're a Gryffindor. How did you get down here?" Harry didn't fluster – he had more self control than that – but couldn't stop the blank stare. "Don't tell me. McNair again, eh?" Harry's mind reeled. Just how many Voldemort supporters would he have to avoid? But no… McNair wasn't _that _old. It was probably his father… He realised that his long period of silence would look rather odd to the other, and looked back up at Riddle with a blink. "Did he Confuddle you as well?" he snapped, grabbing Harry by the arm and shoving him in a cupboard. "Just be quiet. I'll go deal with McNair and then take you to Dumbledore."

Harry floundered. "No!" He had a horrible feeling that Dumbledore knew all of his students by face, and would immediately notice that he was wrong. And what about timelines? Would something go horrendously wrong if he introduced himself to the man that would save his life so many times _fifty years _in the future?

Riddle raised an eyebrow before leaning in very, very close. "You're not supposed to be here, are you, Harry Potter?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "Look, I realise what this is going to sound like, but…" He leaned forwards and whispered conspiratorially in Riddle's ear. "I'm from the future."

Riddle shoved him away distastefully. "Confuddled. Stay here. Make a sound and the others will only come and find you. I'll come back for you later." Harry started to tremble as soon as the door had closed and the darkness took him in.

* * *

He should have either slept or squatted in fear, but he sort of hung somewhere imbetween; he sat, twisted, in a sort of perpetual limbo, his mind reeling, until Riddle reached in and dragged him out, a wand pressing into his throat enough warning not to make a sound. The Slytherin corridors were dirtier, colder and grottier than he'd ever expected, but Riddle's dorm was warm – magically, as the fire (although pleasant) was in no way big enough to dispel the damp that should be dripping through the ceiling. He hadn't realised how awful it must be to have to live down here, away from any light, heat or warmth. "Your own dorm?" he murmured, although they both knew it was less of a question and more of a simple icebreaker.

Riddle shot him A Look. "You're really not from here, are you? I'm Head Boy."

Harry found himself relaxing, eyes transfixed by the giant snake head in front of him. "It's… lovely," he murmured, and then yelled as he was pinned against the wall with empty eyes staring at him with pure contempt.

"Explain," he snarled. "No one knows who you are, you appear from nowhere and you're a Gryffindor speaking Parsletongue." Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't let Parsletongue slip since the last time he'd met Riddle. It sometimes frightened him how he had no idea that he'd used his… native tongue, as it were.

"Like I said," he gasped, spluttering for breath. "I'm from the future."

Riddle snarled and muttered a spell under his breath. Harry's head burnt for an excruciating moment and he yelled, blacking out, but Riddle's cruel, hot hand against his throat stopped him from slipping away. An odd green light appeared to be bathing both of them; from the angle he saw in Riddle's glittering eyes it appeared to be floating somewhere above Harry's head. "Say that again," he snapped, wand digging slightly into his neck.

"I'm from the future," he spluttered. Riddle stared expectantly at the orb above his head, but nothing happened.

Riddle growled again. "You're telling the truth." He frowned. "Or, at least, you think you are." His eyes narrowed and he gripped onto his wand harder. "Legilimens," he snarled, and Harry screamed.

* * *

When the blackness stopped eating at his eyelids Harry was warm and safe. He scrambled up and shoved on his glasses, looking around, panicky, searching desperately for Riddle. His other hand wrapped around his wand and he glared at the other boy, who was sitting on the bed, his hands entwined and hanging between his legs, hair flopping over one eye as he leaned on his knees. Riddle's eyes were cold and sad. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have done that." Harry's brain was slow and fogged from pain but the sincerity pierced him. He blocked out his mother's screams and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply.

"It's alright," he muttered, but they both knew it never would be – not really. Riddle had broken him before they even started.

"The future…" Riddle shivered, hand clutching onto his upper arm. "It feels so… sad. And scary." Harry was reeling. This wasn't the Voldemort… this wasn't the _Tom _he was expecting. He realised he wasn't really expecting a human at all.

"Not everyone's future," he said quietly.

Riddle's eyes were curious. "Why yours?" Harry's throat clogged. He couldn't lay the blame for his life on this _boy._ Riddle smiled and looked aside. "It's alright. My carer did always say I was too nosy for my own good." His face had darkened and his voice was cold.

"It's fine," Harry gabbled. "I'm fine, I mean I'm used to it by now."

Riddle was staring blankly into the fire. "So if you are from the future, how did you get 'back here', as it were?"

Harry smiled. "No idea. I mean, for all I know someone hit me over the head with a Time Turner." He frowned for a moment. "No… I was… I was in a station. Dumbledore was there… yeah… Dumbledore was there." His brow furrowed. "I'm not supposed to be here," he murmured. "I was supposed to go back and make things right." Harry frowned. Maybe he _was _supposed to be here. Giving Riddle a second chance.

Riddle frowned. "Did you get the wrong train?"

"Yes. No… it wasn't a train. It was… something else." Riddle snorted once. His eyes were dispassionate.

"I should take you to Dumbledore."

Harry's eyes widened in panic. "No! No."

Riddle frowned. "From what you've told me you have no reason not to, but I think I'm going to trust you." He stood up and stretched, yawning, strolling over to the bed and beginning to undress. "I'm going to bed. You can sleep on the couch." Riddle paused in pulling on his pyjamas. "Goodnight, Harry," he said softly and climbed into bed, turning out the light with a flick of his wand.

Harry fell asleep in the knowledge that Voldemort would not plague his dreams that night.

* * *

The blast that pinned him to the wall the moment he flickered awake wasn't exactly unexpected. He didn't bother to struggle, seeing as being pinned to the wall by Voldemort wasn't something he was a complete stranger from. Riddle surveyed him for a moment, before spinning around with disinterest, causing him to fall to the floor rather painfully. Riddle yawned, did a vague ruffle that reminded him too much of himself before crouching in front of the fire and relighting it with a flick. Harry sat up carefully, unsure whether he would be 'attacked' again. Riddle crouched back on his haunches and stared at Harry for a moment, eyes sparkling oddly, before stretching his legs and strolling back towards the couch, which he slumped on heavily with a sigh. Harry simply stared from his awkward fallen-from-wall position. "I still can't find anything on you," Riddle said conversationally. "I'm starting to believe this rubbish you're spewing might actually be true."

"It's not rubbish," Harry said quietly, standing up unsteadily. His hand convulsed around his wand. He took a small step towards him.

"I was talking to a Potter, actually. They'd never heard of you." Although his heart skipped at the possibility of meeting the grandparents he'd never even considered before, he continued to take miniscule steps towards Riddle, his wand burning against his palm.

"They wouldn't have. I'm probably their grandchild."

Riddle grunted uncommunicatively. He passed a hand across his eyes for a moment and that was when Harry took his long-since growing opportunity; his wand ripped out of his pocket and he pinned Riddle against the wall. Not a heartbeat later Riddle had cursed him back and flown off the wall, coming to stand in front of him. Harry pressed his wandtip harder into Riddle's neck as Riddle's dug into him. "Go on then, Harry Potter. _Go on._"

"I will!" he yelled. _I'll have to someday. _But they both knew that from the minute the sentence had left his lips he never would.

Riddle's eyes glittered. "Go on then, Harry. Kill me. I can _feel_ you wanting to. _Burning _with it. I know how I tortured you. The famous Harry Potter. You didn't want it. You didn't want to be known as the 'Boy Who Lived'. You didn't want your parents to die. You just wanted a normal life. I took all of that away from you."

Harry snarled. "You took _everything _from me!" His hand wavered slightly, but his eyes burned.

Riddle laughed softly. "Legilimens has told me everything. Your deepest hates… your _darkest _desires…" A chuckle. Low. Mocking. "Go on then, Harry Potter. Go on." His eyes flickered closed for a moment, his throat bobbing softly against the wand, and Harry couldn't tear his eyes away.

"I could save everyone." It was a whisper, and his eyes were dull and glazed. Far away. "I could stop the war." His eyes shimmered slightly. "I could save my parents. _Sirius._"

"Would you really save them though, hmm?"

Harry frowned, digging his want in ever so slightly more. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you're a smart young thing. Think about it. You kill me now, a million possibilities wink out of existence. Who's to say your parents even meet, if hatred of evil doesn't bring them together?" His eyes glittered dangerously. "And even if they don't go, who's to say you all play happy families forever?"

"Shut up," Harry barked. "Don't you _dare _talk about my parents!"

"All those arguments. Such a young mind… you never really understood what was going on. Much too young. Memories long since gone, long since buried." His wand lazily caressed Harry's neck. "And that's normal, I suppose. No one can remember what happens when they were only one year old."

"My parents were happy!" Harry yelled.

"Oh, but I suppose that's what they want you to think. After all, people only want to be remembered for their achievements. No one needs to remember the arguments - "

"Stop it!"

" – the tears - "

"Shut up!"

" – the _pain _- "

"SHUT UP RIGHT NOW!" Harry's wand dug into his neck more, and Riddle laughed.

"But what separates you from me, hmm? If you do it. I've always said we're _so_ alike." A chuckle.

"We're nothing alike! You're a monster and a murderer! You killed Myrtle and _destroyed _Hagrid – "

Riddle laughed. "Oh, now _that _was fun!" Pure hatred coursed through him, but Riddle's eyes were cool. "What are you, Harry Potter? A monster, like me, or a coward, like your loving father?"

Harry's eyes closed, but all he could see was red hair burnt across his vision. Ron… Ginny… his _mother_… _Sirius… _he could save all of them. But he might die himself… was he prepared to do that? Of course he was. But… could he really kill?

His arm fell beside him. "Coward," he whispered. "Always."

Riddle turned away, laughing softly, striding back to the door and stretching out with a long yawn. His eyes glittered softly as he turned back to Harry. "Well done, Harry," he murmured, and his eyes were glowing in the half-light as he slid the door shut. Harry had never felt more alone.

* * *

He only woke up when his scar burnt harder than he'd ever believed and when he tried to take breath something was clamped over his mouth. The cause of both of these jumped at him when his eyes fluttered open and he found Riddle pressing up to him, mouth firmly and gut-wrenchingly clamped over his own. He felt his whole body explode in shivers at the realisation of what exactly was happening, and he sat dumbly, scar ripping through his head from the intense pain caused by Riddle simply being so close to him. He tried to force Riddle away but something about the simple heat and the way that his whole body felt so _wonderful _that made him stop. Riddle gasped, desperate for breath, but his hands gripped hard in Harry's hair. Harry felt a keen build up in his throat and was suddenly filled with repulsion – though whether it was for himself or Tom he wasn't sure. He shoved him away and wriggled out of his grasp, slamming the door on Tom's start and cry of "Harry!"

He belted down the corridor, mind spinning with confusion. He found his feet purging a way before he even knew what he was doing; they knew what he wanted, even if he didn't. They remembered his refuge from before; he stood at the blank wall with a terrified glance behind him. _I need somewhere to hide… please, keep me safe… I can't… I can't… keep me safe…_

The wall in front of him stayed stubbornly blank, no matter how many times he paced and paced and screamed inside of his head. He kept glancing in terror behind him, though whether it was in fear of Tom finding him or his past catching up with him he wasn't entirely sure. He wondered whether he'd got the location wrong, and almost stamped his foot in frustration as he was taken by bitter regret of not having the Marauder's Map with him. He glanced at a familiar-looking statue in an alcove to the right; no, this was the right place. So why wasn't the Room opening?

A shimmer of translucent material glimmered at his vision, and he dived forward, pulling it from a crack in the wall. It glittered ethereally in his fingers and he recognised it from the second his fingers disappeared. He sent a silent word of thanks to the Room, letting it slip through his fingers and pool on his palm. It wasn't his cloak; it felt more… rubbery, and it was much too long; when he swung it over his head it covered all of him easily. He huddled in a corner for a moment before jumping out of the way as a door appeared behind him; he froze as Tom stepped out of the room. It seemed that if the Room was being used it obviously couldn't be opened by someone else. He wondered for a second how Tom had got here before he did, but realised that the Marauders couldn't have found all of the secret passages – the Chamber of Secrets was proof of that in itself. He hardly dared breathe as he watched the other; he was burning with an intense anger, but the frown playing around his face and the set of his shoulders didn't seem to reflect this. Heartbeats later he turned and walked away, his head towards the floor, feet rapping on the stone harshly.

He watched the other retreating with a rush of relief swamped by dread. Dumbledore. He had to find Dumbledore. He didn't care any longer about interfering with time-zones; Dumbledore would understand. He always did. He made sure that Tom was long gone before padding as softly as he could down the corridors. He stood in front of the gargoyle with a moment's pause, before stepping forward and opening his mouth confidently. He jumped back again when it opened, scrambling back against the wall with a rush of panic. He saw Dumbledore leaving (pressing himself harder against the stone) followed by another unfamiliar face; he felt a hot rush of embarrassment as he realised that at this moment Dumbledore was still just a teacher. This must be Professor Dippet. He watched them walk down the corridor together and padded after them, hanging back, wondering whether Dumbledore's office would be the same as Professor McGonagall's. He decided he could only follow him and did so, overcome with a rush of relief when Dippet parted company with him and he hurried forward, trying to catch his attention, but he disappeared.

It took him a moment to figure out what had happened and another to find the door in the wall. He pushed it open as quietly as he could and stood inside.

He felt the bile rise to the top of his throat and clamped a hand across his mouth to stifle his yelp of fright. He backed hurriedly out of the door and ran down the corridor, adrenaline and desperation to get away from that _smell_ fuelling him as he ran faster and faster. He eventually collapsed against a wall and huddled underneath the cloak, trembling.

Harry didn't know why he hadn't really realised it before; Dumbledore… probably had a lot of things in his past that he didn't want people knowing about. But still… that horrible _stench_… he didn't want to know exactly what was occurring in that room, but one thing was blindingly obvious. He couldn't trust Dumbledore. He couldn't trust _anyone._

He was utterly on his own.

**A/N**

**Wow. Stories can be a **_**bitch **_**to write. (This one was. Kudos to those who can tell.) My new OTP is definitely HarryTom. And the song Time Is Running Out is bloody **_**perfect**_**, and I think I might have to make a video for it.**

**Anyway, this chappie's for my Princess-Angel (she knows who she is) for no matter how long she submits me to Thunderbirds torture I will still luff her. And she was a much overworked beta for this story; our progressional emails went something along the lines of "Good, but Tom's OOC,", "Better, but now Harry's OOC,", "'Lichay, this makes no sense," until I finally refined it God-knows how many times to refine her tastes. Honestly. But here is the much slaved-for final. Yay.**

**Kudos to JKR, who we all know owns Harry. Oh, and the wonderfully buff boy who plays Tom in CoS deserves a mention too for sending me into a puddle halfway through my Stats exam.**


	2. Alone

Tom walked into the doorway as Harry looked up

**A/N**

**Thanks for all the support so far! Credit goes to JKR, Chris Coulson for making me adore Tom, and ShinigamixGirl for being utterly awesome and taking the time to review. I'll credit you someday if you do because it literally means the world to me.**

**Alone**

Harry sat very still when Tom walked in, but his stride was direct and his fingers curled in the loose material covering his head and carried up in a smooth motion. Harry didn't bother looking up. "Congratulations," he muttered bitterly. "You found your prize." Tom turned on his heel and strode away, waiting by the doorway, eyes on Harry. He sat with his head in his hands, gripping onto his hair angrily. "What is this?" Harry yelled, standing up and casting his arms around. "What is this _supposed _to be? Who are you _supposed _to be? Because you're sure as _hell _not the Tom I remember talking to!"

"You said…well, thought it yourself. You weren't expecting a human at all." Tom's eyes were angry and sharp. "I'm going to pretend I don't know why you hate me, Harry, because I know you didn't want me to know. But I also want to tell you that it was stupid, arrogant, _ignorant _people like you that turned me into him."

Harry snorted. "You think that I'm stupid? Ignorant?" His hate carried him forward into the corridor, marching along, Tom standing in the doorway behind him.

"I know that you're arrogant," he called after him, his eyes cool. He smirked slightly. "Just like your father," he mused.

Harry's wand flew out, pointed to his throat, feet slamming on the floor as he approached. "You speak about my parents one more time and I swear, I _will_ kill you."

"You've already murdered that tiny fragment of me fifty years from now… why not wipe me off the earth altogether?"

Harry's hand wavered, his step faltering, before falling and hanging beside him as he halted and stared at the floor, fists balled beside him. "We've had this conversation before," he muttered through gritted teeth. "It won't get us anywhere."

Tom cocked his head, eyes glittering. "You're a coward, Potter. A filthy, dirty coward."

He turned on his heel and began marching away again. "Shut up," he said quietly to the figure watching him go. He met a wall; his hands slammed into the cool stone angrily, leaning against it with his head dropped towards the floor.

"The only reason you're still alive is because you run away, whilst your friends and family fall like flies around you." Tom sauntered forwards, grinning. "And you see it in their _eyes _when they die that they wonder why it wasn't you."

"Get the hell out of my head!" Harry yelled, spinning around and backing away along the wall desperately.

"Your teacher was right… Snape, wasn't it? Yes… you're weak, and you're a fool, and you're a downright, murdering, evil little _coward_."

Harry pushed his hands over his ears. "Stop," he snarled, but it sounded piteous and weak. He sounded like a twelve-year old again, not the person he had trained to become – the person his friends had _died _for him to become. "Stop." His knees weakened; he fell to the floor with a painful sob.

Tom loomed over him. "And to think. I actually wanted you to prove me wrong." He looked at him contemptuously before turning and walking away.

"Stop," Harry said again, rising to his feet. Tom continued to walk. He started to follow, getting angrier with each step. It built like a furnace inside of him and it felt so wonderful to _feel _again, to be a _part _of something, to _want _something. He wanted to get to Tom. He wanted to stop Tom. But when he reached out and clamped his hand on his arm and Tom turned around he had no idea what he actually wanted to do next.

Tom made the decision for him. With a mirthless smirk he bent down and pressed his mouth down again. Harry froze with confusion, and the furnace inside him sparked white-hot with… anger? Yes… but… just feeling so _alive._ It was something that ricoched from the very highest part of his hair to his toenails, setting the backs of his arms and the inside of his elbows on fire. He felt himself succumb to it, lose to it, become part of it, push towards it, against it. His mouth devoured Tom's and his mind soaked up the sensation, revelling in the onslaught of emotions. Kissing Cho hadn't felt like this… kissing Ginny hadn't felt like this. This wasn't kissing. This was kissing the devil, with fire and brimstone and lust and his soul curling and coiling around Tom's. This was _incredible_. It was beautiful. It was _Tom Riddle_, and he was going to crash and burn someday but this was enough to cling on to on the ride down. Tom pulled away, and Harry's eyes stayed closed for one blissful moment before fluttering open again. He found himself panting, and knew his face would be flushed, but Tom's was cool, disinterested, dispassionate. He was betrayed, however, by his brilliantly sharp eyes and the hand resting on Harry's hip, radiating heat into his body. He couldn't find the breath to murmur Tom's name, so he stood and stared and screamed it in his mind. The voices in the hallway made them jump; discovery was something that had not occurred to either of them. Tom's arms tensed, pushing him away. He nodded to the Invisibility Cloak on the floor. "Go," he murmured, and Harry pulled it on. Tom seemed to slip back into the shadows as two Slytherins walked past.

"You'll just never understand how utterly hysterical her face was when her own hands started to attack her." The elder sneered unpleasantly and the younger laughed; it was skittering and fragmented and made Harry feel ill.

"Oh, it sounds _wonderful_," the younger smirked, looking up at the elder with fawning, doe-like eyes that made his skin crawl.

"I miss the old days. I need some new curses, I just haven't found the time… have you seen much of Tom lately?" Harry's heart skittered unpleasantly.

"Riddle? No, he spends more time in his room now than ever. Wish I knew what he had in there to stay for…" The two voices drifted off into the horizon and Harry was left with his heartbeat unpleasantly loud in his ears. He pulled off the cloak and stared towards Tom in the shadows, his mouth opening in accusation, eyes glowing, but the other had tensed and shrunk back, eyes nervously surveying Harry, stuck in full view.

"Hullo?" Harry froze, fully displayed in the centre of the corridor. He knew that voice. He looked up, but he already knew he'd see Dumbledore standing there.

"Professor," he stammered.

The other walked towards him, a slight frown on his face. "Are you lost?" he inquired quietly, looking at the Gryffindor badge still resplendent on his chest.

"No. Yes! I think so," he garbled, forcing himself to not look at Tom behind them.

Dumbledore frowned again. "Are you new?" he said, and his voice was sharper than before.

"No," Harry said truthfully. "I've been to Hogwarts for seven years." Well, almost truthfully. He almost gulped when he saw Dumbledore's hand curling around a very obvious object in his pocket.

"Perhaps you'd better come with me," Dumbledore said, reaching out his hand.

"_Stupefy_!" The spell shocked the both of them, the red light reverberating around the room. Dumbledore's eyes went wide and he let out a little gasp as he stumbled onto the floor. Tom tucked his wand back into his robes and crouched over the body of Albus Dumbledore on the floor, eyes flickering around nervously. "You could try and be a little more subtle," he snapped.

Harry couldn't stop staring. "That was _Dumbledore_!" he said, voice dripping with awe he couldn't quite suppress.

Tom frowned angrily. "Yes, he never trusted me," he snapped, looking up at Harry expectantly. "You going to help me or not?"

"You… you can't just Stupefy _Dumbledore_!" Harry exclaimed. Tom rolled his eyes, pushing his wand closer to Dumbledore's head. "What are you doing?"

Tom sighed, exasperated. "Wiping his memory. If he wakes up, remembers you and getting Stupefied then we might as well sit here and cuff ourselves together." Tom raised an eyebrow. "I do happen to – "

"Alright, I get the idea," Harry snapped. "But be careful, alright? This is supposed to be the greatest wizard of all time, he doesn't need you zapping away his memories."

"Second greatest," Tom said quietly, leaning over Dumbledore again. "And trust me. I know what I'm doing." Harry's heart skipped as he realised that he did actually trust Tom. "_Obliviate_," the other murmured, and light seared across their vision.

--

"Something… something's wrong with Dumbledore," Harry said as they propped him in a chair in a disused classroom. "When I was… in the castle before I saw something," he said, straightening the Professor's glasses. "In a cupboard. Something… horrible." He sounded like a petulant child.

Tom raised an eyebrow cynically, but his tone was serious. "You want to go back and see if you can help." It should have been a question, but Tom knew him better than that by now. Harry nodded, straightening up. Tom stood and stretched beside him. Harry couldn't help but scorch his body with a single gaze. Tom noticed and smiled, leaning across, brushing their lips together softly. Harry closed his eyes, shuddering, and reminded himself of how horrendously new he was to this whole scene. It was uncomfortable, and… exhilarating. When Tom pulled away he ruffled his hair casually and sauntered towards the door. "We should give you some Slytherin robes," he commented. "You're about my height," he added, scanning Harry calculatingly. "I'll give you some when we get back to the dorm." Harry couldn't seem to do anything but nod, so he simply did this again. Tom rolled his eyes and walked out, and Harry followed, feeling very much like a house-elf. "After you," Tom stated, arm moving in front of him in an elegant gesture Harry was immediately envious of.

"Thanks." He confidently took the lead, winding through Hogwarts, trying to remember where he'd run when he'd been so scared… he traced his steps to the Headmaster's office, then followed his route until he found the room. He could already imagine the gut-wrenching smell, hand subconsciously drifting across his mouth and nose as he opened the door. There was no smell, this time, but what was inside the room was in full view and his stomach wrenched. "Oh, no…" he whispered.

Tom peered around his shoulder. "What? Who is it?"

He crouched beside the very-obviously dead body. "Colin?" he muttered, shaking his shoulder a tad desperately. "Oh, what have they done to you?"

"Who is it?" Tom asked again.

"Just a kid," Harry said sadly. "Just a stupid little kid who liked taking my picture and got in the way." He closed his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. "I thought… I didn't realise…"

"So how did he end up here?" Tom's voice was soft, quiet, an anchor to sanity that Harry scrabbled at with desperate fingers.

"I'm… I'm not sure. Perhaps the same way I did…? So… he's… he's dead in the future and he falls through time back here. Dumbledore must find him and have to dispose of him, so he shoves him in a secret passageway." He let out a long, steady breath as he straightened up. "It all makes a frightening amount of sense." He frowned. "I'm talking about time-travel. How did this happen?"

"It can surprise you how your future is so totally different from what you expected," Tom said softly. Harry didn't raise his gaze, his hands still burning from when they had touched the boy beneath him.

"I… I don't think I even met his parents," Harry said quietly. "I can't leave him here, but I can't move him." He felt his jaw lock angrily. "I can't do _anything_," he spat, fists curling beside his thighs, his bitten nails digging into the top of his fingers. "He has a little brother," he murmured softly. The back of his arms were prickling unpleasantly.

Tom curled a hand around his forearm and tugged softly. "We must move, Harry," he said softly.

"I want to stay with him," he said stubbornly. Tom wasn't smiling; he simply tugged on his arm a little harder. He let his arm go and began to walk away; reluctantly Harry followed, leaving a very unmoving Colin Creevy alone and still in the diminishing doorway; the door closed and the sight was lost.

**A/N**

**Unbeta'd, because my darling is in the middle of exams right now and I daren't pester her –hides-**

**I have posted this once but the ending was so fluffy I had to remove it.**

**I hope Tom's character doesn't come out as schizophrenic… ' He does a lot of changing his mind, but what I'm trying to get at is he doesn't really know what he wants either, so the I'm-very-sexy-kiss-me-Tom realises that he's supposed to be a stuck-up heartless bastard so becomes one. (Kind of like Sasuke, if anyone watches Naruto. Wait, who doesn't? ')**

**(I'm totally bypassing the fact homosexuality was a big no-no in the fifties, there are some obstacles I can't be **_**bothered**_** to avoid – a penance, if you will, means no public scenes. Unfortunately.)**

**I have big plot twists ahead, if you people still actually want to read… I've been so sporadic in updating I wouldn't blame you if you just deserted me and refused to speak to me again.**


	3. AN

Pathetically long drivel of an author's note.

Firstly, an apology. It has to be at least sixth months now and I know there are (were) some people who were actually interested in this. I wanted to let you know I am in the process of a total rewrite, hopefully mostly covered over Christmas, so content will be changed and updated. Thank you all so very much for bearing with me, if you still are, and if not, I'm very sorry.


End file.
